She Was Trouble
by scorpio17910
Summary: She was trouble. Oliver Wood had known this from the day they'd met. Her quirks set her aside, shed a different light on her. A light Oliver found interesting.... Singularly one-shot, OliverOC, kinda fluffy. It's cool if I get flames: I need a good laugh.


_Ello, loves. I was just listening to the radio, got a random spark of inspiration, and wrote this little one-shot. _

_DISCLAIMER -- No, I do NOT own anything recognizable in this. If I did, I would be J.K. Rowling, and I'm not. I would like to be though, but that's beyond the point. Oh, yes, almost forgot: I did borrow the Bandersnatch from Lewis Carroll for a brief moment. That's not mine either.  
_

_Thank you [insert name of person reading this] for taking the time to read this random and meandering . . . thing. It means a lot!! ^_^ _

_Enjoy! _

_

* * *

_

She was trouble. Oliver Wood had known this from the day they'd met.

He was sitting in the parlor one mid-morning at Grimmauld Place, reading the _Daily Prophet,_ when the front door suddenly burst open to reveal Morghan Pelletier, trunk in one hand, wand in the other, and cocky smirk across her face. The first thing Oliver may have thought was _she's trouble,_ but the second thing was most definitely _she's stunning. _This was true of the young woman: she was well curved, but thin in the waist; her hair was long and of the deepest black, and it curled in a wild beauty around her face; eyes of the clearest sapphire, surrounded by long dark lashes, sat above a straight and elegant nose, just under which rested a full and pink set of lips. When she turned her head to the left, Oliver could see a bar running through the cartilage of her ear at a slight angle. Molly Weasley had apparently been expecting the girl: she was down the stairs in record time.

"Morghan, dear! I thought you'd never come," Mrs. Weasley said brightly, hugging her tightly. Morghan hugged the woman back with the hand that still held her wand.

"Aunt Molly! I've missed you!" The two women released each other. "I would have come sooner, but they kept upping my bail in Argentina. It took me _forever_ to save up enough galleons to get myself out of there." Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes.

"What did you do to get yourself locked up again?"

Morghan looked at the older woman sheepishly. "Well, about the most I can tell you is it involved an escaped Bandersnatch, a sack full of gold from an ancient tomb, and a cursed wine goblet. If I told you anything else, they might have you hauled in for questioning." Molly gave the girl one of her 'looks' usually reserved for the twins and shook her head.

"Well, you're out now, and I'll just pretend your delay was caused by not booking a Portkey to London." Morghan laughed quietly. "Here, ducky, let me take your trunk up to your room. It will be the same as when you stayed last time." Molly quickly fished her own wand out of her robes and began levitating the trunk up the stairs. Suddenly, she stopped and turned around to the _very_ bewildered Quidditch player behind them. "Oh, Oliver, this is Morghan Pelletier. Morghan, this is Oliver Wood."

Morghan turned to the man sitting in the room just off the foyer, seeing the confused Scotsman with a forgotten _Prophet_ sitting across his lap. She smiled and approached him.

"Hello, I don't believe we've met?" Morghan extended her hand for him to shake.

"No, I don't think so. As Mrs. Weasley has already said, I'm Oliver," he said, taking her hand. He was faintly surprised at the calluses strewn across the skin.

"Yes, and, as Aunt Molly has already said, I'm Morghan," she laughed. Oliver grinned. He nodded his head towards the kitchen.

"Want some breakfast?"

Morghan's eyes lit up at his words. "That would be fabulous. I haven't had a decent meal for a good four months!" Oliver quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, I've been in a bloody Argentinean prison for a while, but you don't want to know how I ended up in that place. Trust me: prison food _sucks_ there." She laughed lightly again. They began heading towards the little kitchen down the hall. The food from the breakfast earlier that morning was still sitting out on the table and Oliver noticed how Morghan's eyes widened at the promise of a good meal.

"Whoa. There _is_ a God," she breathed. Oliver chuckled. Morghan sat down at the table while Oliver got her a dish from one of the cabinets. The second he set the plate in front of her, she began loading it with as much food as she could pile on, and then promptly began stuffing her face in a none-too-ladylike way. Oliver couldn't help but chuckle. This girl was _definitely_ different, but he was finding her rather interesting all the same.

"So," she said in between large bites of egg, "what do you do?"

"Hmm? Oh, I play Quidditch. Puddlemere's Keeper, but we're not in season right now," Oliver said. She nodded appreciatively.

"I always liked playing. I was Seeker, but I got kicked off my school's team after I blew up one of my professor's office. It wasn't a good day for me, but I got my revenge eventually," she said. She smiled; apparently thinking about her misadventures at whatever school it was that she went to.

"Nice. May I ask what you do?" Oliver glanced at the rebel of a woman beside him. She grinned wickedly.

"Well, It involves a lot of travel, hands on work, and near-death experiences," she answered.

"Treasure hunter?" Oliver guessed.

"Congratulations, you've won the prize of nothing. But you _did_ get the right answer."

He laughed.

They continued to talk and laugh like that for the next hour while she finished eating. Eventually, once Morghan had eaten to her heart's content, they stood and placed the remains of the breakfast on the kitchen counter before exiting the small room. They made their way down the hall and up the stairs, joking back and forth, discussing topics all the way from Quidditch plays to the pros and cons of having a Muggle driver's license. Oliver opened the door to her bedroom for her and held it as she entered. Just inside the door, she turned around, grinning almost to the point of smirking.

"Thank you for the magnificent breakfast and marvelous conversation, Mr. Wood," Morghan said, almost sarcastically, but with just enough seriousness that Oliver could tell she really meant what she said.

"That it was, Miss Pelletier," he answered, imitating her tone. "Surely, we need to get together sometime and perhaps play a quick game of one-on-one Quidditch?"

She smiled and grinned slightly. "I suppose. I mean, there's not much else to do around this ratty old place!" They laughed.

She was trouble. Oliver knew that. But, strangely, he could care less.

* * *

_I'm not going to beg, but I would like to get some constructive criticism, pretty-pretty-please-with-sugar-and-sprinkles-on-top? The review button doesn't bite, I promise!_

_Much love and until next time, _

_-Scorpio  
_


End file.
